


frequently the hills undress

by The Byger (Byacolate)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Desiree has trouble being discerning about present company when Stiles wears a skirt, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Derek Hale, Female Stiles Stilinski, Femslash, Forest Sex, Genderswap, Oral Fixation, Semi-Public Sex, camping and double dating should never mix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/The%20Byger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles could hear her growling like a grumpy puppy, muffled by the sleeping bag, and she had to laugh. “If you want me to start screaming in the middle of the woods thanks to your sexual prowess, you’ve gotta do it when our friends aren’t in the tent six feet away.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	frequently the hills undress

That oral fixation would be the death of her - the way Stiles had to touch everything to her tongue, her lips, constantly moving and drawing attention. It was fine when they were alone; Desiree could just take her and shove her up or down against the nearest surface and suck at that mouth until it went slack. Somehow, Stiles still had trouble reacting right away to Desiree’s kisses, and it only served to make the wolf overly smug that she could make Stiles’ body and brain - the perpetual motion machine - pause. Even fear of death and dismemberment couldn’t do that. Being injected with _kanima venom_ hadn’t kept Stiles' blabbermouth sealed. But Desiree could.  
  
And she would have, right that minute, like that pink tongue chasing the straw in her juicebox was begging Desiree to. She would have taken the drink from her hand and ignored her protests to splay a palm over Stiles’ belly and push her down all the way to the forest floor. She would have pulled a bruise up along her long, pale neck, perfectly placed between those two tempting freckles, just to hear her squeak. Because when Stiles got her breath back, she would have made some snarky remark, and Desire would have had to casually brush a hand over Stiles' lower abdomen just to hear her heart beat in overtime and her breath catch and -  
  
And none of that was happening, because Scott and Allison were on the other side of the picnic blanket from them, chatting away to Stiles like it was okay to occupy her mouth with something other than Desiree.  
  
She got so fed up that she reached across and snatched the juice box from Stiles’ hands. Stiles stared with her, mouth open for a second, tongue still sticking out as if looking for the straw. Desiree threw the juice box to the side so that she wouldn’t be so tempting anymore. Of course that wouldn’t work.  
  
Stiles jumped up on her knees and crawled over to her. “You can’t litter like that! I'm a growing girl and I need my juice. You're going to attract bears!” She actually crawled over Desiree’s lap to grab the box, her ass hovering right in front of Desiree's face. Dammit, the other two were looking at them, so she couldn’t even get away with slapping her ass. Or biting it. Or even just giving it a playful squeeze. Social etiquette was a pain in the ass.  
  
“Was that your weirdly violent, roundabout way of telling me you want some grape juice? Because I’m all over that,” Stiles said, plopping herself back down next to Desiree and shoving the empty carton in the trash bag. Then she turned to the left to dig around in the cooler and that just another great angle of her ass. It wouldn’t take anything for Desiree to wrap her hands around those thighs and drag her back -  
  
“Uh, you haven’t touched your sandwich, Desiree,” Allison pointed out across the blanket. Scott was frowning so deeply that Desiree imagined it might form a permanent crease, and Allison just looked embarrassed. Good. They could both be wildly uncomfortable with her staring unabashedly at Stiles’ ass. They were the only reason she and Stiles weren’t naked right now, so they deserved it. She looked Scott straight in the eye and took a big bite of the sandwich, locked in a staring contest. Desiree only broke it when Stiles bumped against her shoulder and handed her a box of grape juice.  
  
“Here you are, milady.”  
  
She glared at her, and Stiles’ eyes widened slightly but still held out the juice box. Desiree took it, but made silently clear that she didn’t really want it. Stiles pushed her tangled hair behind her shoulder and took out a -oh god, why?- a lollipop from her backpack. This had to be intentional. There was no way Stiles wasn’t fucking with her.  
  
Allison seemed to be asking her something, so she tuned back in. “What?” she asked, not caring all that much if it sounded blunt to the point of rudeness.  
  
“Oh, sorry, I was just asking if you got a haircut? It looks great, by the way. I like the shorter look on you.”  
  
Desiree looked at her for a second before grunting. “It was getting long so I cut it off. Less annoying this way.” Was this really her life now - taking ‘couples camping trips’ with Scott and Allison and enduring trivial conversations about hair? When had they stopped being mortal enemies? Was it too late to go back to that?  
  
“Oh my God, Dee,” Stiles lisped around her sucker, pulling it from between her lips with an obscene pop a second later. Her tongue was already a light shade of blue in the center. Desiree wanted to take the lollipop and give Stiles her own tongue to suck on instead. “Just admit that you kept getting twigs and decimated bunny guts in it. Shaggy over there knows how it is.” She ignored Scott’s squawk of protest and reached up to stroke Desiree’s hair, lightly pinching a dark strand and following it all the way down to Desiree’s jaw. “It’s super soft now. Like a kitten’s belly.” Their eyes locked, and Desiree wondered if Stiles might be amenable to retiring to their tent early for an agonizingly silent fuck. Because apparently comparing parts of her to kittens really did it for Desiree.  
  
But she would probably just complain that Scott would hear no matter how quiet they were, and their amazing platonic relationship wouldn’t survive that. Desiree silently glared at them all, and tried pulling Stiles closer. Stiles wouldn’t go for it.  
  
“Hey, we should go hunting! Or, well, the ones of us who can hunt should go hunting... which is all three of you assholes.”  
  
Scott laughed a bit. “We already have hot dogs and stuff. I don’t think you would be happy with us killing any cute animals.”  
  
“I could not be _less_ fond of chipmunks, my man.”  
  
“Wouldn’t they be more effort to catch and prepare than they’re worth?” Allison asked, the corner of her lips quirked. “They’re just... really small.”  
  
“You’d have to catch, like, ten of them to even make a werewolf appetizer, am I right or am I right?” Stiles elbowed Desiree in the side, earning herself a little juicebox squirt in the face. Stiles squeezed her eyes shut and lapped at the dark purple liquid dripping down her face. “Ha!” she said when Allison tossed her a wadded up napkin. “Black t-shirt. Not even fazed.”  
  
“You should probably get out of it before it gets cold,” Desiree suggested coyly, and that’s when Scott jumped up.  
  
“We’re going hunting. C’mon, Desiree, let’s go.”  
  
They didn’t end up finding any chipmunks, because that was a fairly specific thing to try to catch. Scott was completely useless at hunting anyway, so Desiree ditched him and went to the stream to try and catch a few trout. They had brought food, so it was nearly that they were doing this anyway, but standing in the chilly creek helped her cool down a bit. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she was going to do to Stiles once she had the chance. Suck on one of her nipples, for one thing. And put that sinful mouth to good work, for another.  
  
Judging by the position of the setting sun and the height of the fire built in their absence, they’d spent a bit longer than intended with their unspoken competition. Desiree couldn’t see Stiles right offhand, so she laid her fish out with little fanfare while Scott showed off his prizes to Allison, and went to wash her hands and face with their jugs of sanitary water and bar soap. A muffled curse came from inside her tent when Desiree was rinsing off, and Stiles stumbled out of the opening, zipping up her oversized hoodie and glaring at nothing. Desiree might have offered some snide comment just to hear Stiles’ cheeky retort, but she was somewhat distracted by the very sudden and unexpected flash of leg. Specifically, Stiles’ legs. Both of them. _All_ of them. “Why are you wearing a skirt?” Not that she was complaining, but it was getting chillier by the hour, and it just wasn’t like Stiles to dress so impractically.  
  
Red blossomed on her cheeks and Stiles tried to pull the hoodie down to hide the green skirt. “Shut up! My jeans got ripped when I fell... ripped in a bad spot.”  
  
Allison picked up the story from there. “I had a skirt in my car so I grabbed it for her. I think it’s Lydia’s, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” She gave a grin, and continued poking at the fire.  
  
That would explain why the skirt was so... short. Oh god. Desiree tore her gaze away and pointed to her catch. “I got fish. They’re already gutted.”  
  
“And you’ve washed yourself up like a real domesticated housewolf,” Stiles said with an appraising look, trying to settle down on the chair by the fire. Desiree could see goosebumps rise up and up Stiles’ thighs while she chatted to Allison and Scott, and once Desiree was able to tear her eyes away she ducked into the tent for a minute.  
  
“Get up,” she said twenty seconds later, bumping her knee into the back of the chair to jostle Stiles away.  
  
“What? No! I just got comfy!” But then she saw the blanket in Desiree’s hand and the quirk of her brow and grudgingly stood, tugging her skirt down as she went.  
  
Desiree sat down in the chair, and held the blanket out so that Stiles could sit on her lap. She did so, and smiled when the blanket was wrapped around the both of them. Scott was chuckling across the fire, and Allison smacked him on the shoulder. “It’s nice. Not like you would ever do anything like that.”  
  
“What, you’re like never cold! Most of the time you’re the one who offers me _your_ jacket!”  
  
“That’s because Allison is the practical one in your relationship. And the sweet one. And the smart one.”  
  
Allison smiled at Stiles and Scott had that constipated look on his face that said he wanted to argue but couldn’t because it was the truth. “So what does that make Desiree?” he asked instead, and she bared her teeth at him over Stiles’ shoulder just because she could.  
  
“Dee’s the one who never passes up an advantage in any given situation.”  
  
“That sounds a lot like you too, though,” Allison said apologetically. Desiree made sure Stiles’ naked thighs were trapped in the warmth of the blanket before giving them a squeeze.  
  
Of course, Stiles’s speech didn’t falter. “Nope, I’m the cute one,” she said with a grin. “And right now, I’m the hungry one. Should we cook up the fish or the hot dogs?”  
  
Desiree wanted to make perfectly clear that Stiles wasn’t allowed to get up to make anything, and she clamped one hand on Stiles’ thigh and the other one on her stomach, pulling her tight against her chest.  
  
Luckily, both Allison and Scott got up. “Why not both?” Allison said, because she was practical. “Desiree caught some big ones. It’d be a shame to let them go to waste.”  
  
“Put the two biggest ones on ice,” Desiree said, and Allison nodded, moving automatically toward the cooler to obey. She’d make a good beta that way. Shame she was an Argent. Stiles tried to crane her neck back to give Desiree a questioning look. “Fresh fish is good for the heart,” she mumbled, nudging Stiles forward to wrap the blanket tighter around them. “Bring them home to your dad.”  
  
Stiles' responding grin was blinding in its brightness, and she stretched to give Desiree a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “You’re the best. He actually really likes fish! Well, normally when it’s soaked in butter, but you know, he can deal.”  
  
Scott handed them both long sticks with hot dogs on the end, as Allison set up a pan to go on top of the fire and put the fish in after scaling them.  When they all sat down again, Scott wanted to tell a ghost story, which was kind of ridiculous considering there were two werewolves and one hunter sitting around the campfire, but whatever. Desiree knew Stiles wasn’t easily frightened, but the thought that there might be a possibility she’d end up clinging to Desiree by the end of the night was not an unpleasant one.  
  
By the time the sun had completely disappeared, when their bellies were full and they could see their breath, Stiles was completely melded to Desiree’s front. Even though Stiles' calves were exposed to the cold night air, Desiree was determined to make it up to her by slowly massaging her thighs. On one hand, she could put up an innocent front by claiming to be increasing Stiles’ bloodflow to warm her up, which was partly true. On the other, in her own mind Desiree was well aware that she was blatantly exploiting Stiles’ rare public semi-quasi-sort of nudity for her own means and desires.  
  
Desiree passed on her turn for the ghost stories, wanting to concentrate on the girl pressed against her front. When she moved her hand a little higher, Stiles actually let out a barely audible sigh, and that was it. Desiree kept her face passive while she moved her hands up until they were skimming the bottom of the skirt. When she went under the flimsy material, Stiles actually stiffened with her whole body. Desiree nosed at the lobe of Stiles’ ear and pulled one hand up to curl over her belly. Stiles was slow to relax, but when she did, falling lax against Desiree again, she took the opportunity to slide her fingers under the baggy sweatshirt and touch Stiles’ warm skin. Her other hand inched further up Stiles’ - Allison’s... Lydia’s? - skirt and skimmed her nails over the sensitive softness of Stiles’ inner thighs. Her full-body shiver ignited a low growl from Desiree’s chest. Stiles’ scent changed almost instantly, tickling Desiree’s gums where her fangs itched to elongate and taste her pheromone-rich skin, but Scott’s story had stuttered and stopped as he squinted at them over the fire.  
  
“Stiles? Are you... uh, feeling alright?” he asked, confusion clear on his face.  
  
“Ah! Yeah I’m fine! Totally awesome. So you were saying about the grey lady? Sounds scary.” Underneath the blanket, Stiles swatted at Desiree’s hand, but that didn’t phase her. She moved up, and tried to guess which panties Stiles was wearing just by how they felt.  
  
Maybe the fire was playing with his nose a bit because even Scott wouldn’t normally be able to misplace the smell that was wafting off of Stiles. Or maybe that was just Desiree, perpetually overwhelmed by Stiles’ scent. Scott definitely couldn’t miss the shift in the alpha’s mood though. He’d probably seen the red in her eyes. The idiot picked the absolute worst times to be perceptive.  
  
“You’re ruining. Your own. Damn. Story,” Desiree ground out, and totally relished in the suppressed shudder Stiles was trying so hard not to let her feel. It was gratifying to know how the scarier parts of herself were aphrodisiacs to Stiles.  
  
“Right, yeah, um, where was I?” Scott asked, floundering for a second.  
  
Allison patted him on the knee. “You were at the part where the grey lady appears in the mirror,” she supplied helpfully, and Scott went off again, only pausing once when Stiles let out a squeak when Desiree got a couple fingers hooked around the waistband of her panties.  
  
And with that accomplished, she could feel just how wet Stiles had gotten in the space of a few minutes.  
  
Her heartbeat fluttered like a hummingbird, and her cunt was hot, but Derek only teased her there for a second before tracing along her pantyline and back down to her thighs. The tiniest noise of protest niggled at the back of Stiles’ throat before she could stop herself, and that was Desiree’s fingers' cue to crawl back up and trace the crease between Stiles’ thighs and her pelvis. Muscles clenched and Stiles’ breath went shallow, and the only thing that stopped her from just stuffing Stiles with her fingers right then and there was Scott’s sudden shout and Allison’s scream. Desiree and Stiles jumped, but not exactly for the same reasons. Allison clutched her stomach with laughter, and Scott just grinned, pulling her close and apologizing cheekily for giving her such a fright, and Desiree gripped Stiles tight to keep her from leaping up and exposing them both.  
  
Allison hit her boyfriend, giving him a thump on the chest. “You suck,” she said, crossing her arms. Scott apologised again, and said that now it was her turn to tell a ghost story and she could scare him as much as she wanted. Which probably meant that he would be practically crying by the end of it, but whatever.  
  
Stiles leaned back against Desiree, sighing as she held her tightly. “Scott, you’re an idiot. We have at least two killers in our midst and you think it would be good to make them jump? I’m just glad Dee didn’t like wolf out or something!”  
  
Desiree moved Stiles’ hair to the side so she could put her chin on her shoulder, smelling her. “I wouldn’t have scratched you.”  
  
“You better not.” She didn’t comment about the placement that scratch would have been had she actually wolfed out. Desiree slowly, carefully drew a claw up the damp patch at the front of Stiles’ panties, just to hear her whine.  
  
“Never would.”  
  
It was a good thing Scott seemed totally transfixed with Allison’s every word, because they never would have gotten away with their murmurings otherwise. “Good,” Stiles breathed, gripping Desiree’s forearm like a lifeline. “You’d better exercise the fuck outta that self control, Dee.”  
  
She gave a smirk, rubbing up against Stiles’ chin. It was beginning to get warm under the blanket, but neither of them planned on moving anytime soon. Desiree brought her hand up, completely lifting the skirt up and out of the way. Maybe she could keep the skirt, so that when they were no longer out in the wilderness, she could fuck her with her tongue while wearing it. Desiree gave a small growl at the image.  
  
“I’m never wearing a skirt again,” Stiles whispered, clearly reading Desiree’s mind. The wolf teased over Stiles’ clit from the other side of her thin cotton panties.  
  
“You are,” she growled. “For me. So I can push it up and eat you out until you cry.”  
  
“We are totally within hearing distance of my best friend, you realize that. He already doesn’t like you very much.”  
  
“It won’t matter how much he likes me when I’m tongue-deep inside you.”  
  
She got a glare for that, even though Stiles was never very good at making her feel very cowed. “Werewolf. Right. Across. The fire. Who, might I add, spent a year of our friendship all awkward because he saw a bra on my floor when he came over,” she said, but went silent when Desiree rubbed her inner thigh.  
  
Desiree pressed the beginnings of a grin into her neck. “He’s a bad friend to you anyway. You don’t really need anyone besides me.”  
  
“Low blow, Dee,” Stiles grunted, her hips giving an aborted lurch up. “Scott’s an awesome friend. Even better now that we both have sweet little somethings on the side.”  
  
“Are we really engaging in conversation about your idiot friend while I’m fingering you?”  
  
“You started it!”  
  
She chuckled, and ran a finger down Stiles' lips to find her clit. It was easy to tell when she found it, because Stiles' breath hitched and her heart jumped. She rubbed at the small bump, her other hand pulling the blanket even more around the two of them.  
  
Stiles whimpered, pressing her legs together, trapping Desiree's hand. "You're evil, an evil, evil wer-ah! Werewolf."  
  
Then Desiree stopped moving, pulling her other hand away from Stiles' belly to the base of her throat as a clear warning to shut up. Her voice may or may not have been rising, and the last thing Desiree wanted was to stop touching Stiles just because of Scott's delicate sensibilities.  
  
"You're wearing your red panties you foul, foul temptress," she hissed back, slowly stroking the wet nub again. The muscles in Stiles' thighs flexed desperately.  
  
"H-how do you - did you see? Oh God, I knew this skirt was way too short -"  
  
"I can feel it, dumbass. You only have one red pair, and that pair is laced with silk around the waistband."  
  
"I can't believe you _categorized my underwear by touch_ , Dee, and I don't know if that's wickedly cool or totally weird."  
  
Across the fire, Scott swore, but he wasn't looking at them. He was looking at Alison, and his eyes were wide. "Oh god, I'm gonna have nightmares for weeks! That is so creepy!"  
  
Alison gave a grin and shrugged. "My mom always told me ghost stories as a kid." Which would be freaking terrifying. She looked over at them. "Alright, Stiles, your turn now."  
  
Stiles opened her mouth to decline, but Desiree whispered in her ear, "Come on, tell them a story. Don't mess it up."  
  
Stiles swallowed thickly and clamped a hand around Desiree's wrist. Obligingly, she paused her torturous rubbing. For the moment, anyway. "I... our whole lives are basically horror stories, guys. Can't we just relive some fond memories? Maybe that first time Dee scoped Scott out in the woods to watch a dude get cut in half by Allison's psycho grandpa? Scott, you tell it best."  
  
"Oh, um, do we really wanna talk about that? Stiles, you have that one story with the living doll that kills her owner, tell that one!" he said, nodding enthusiastically.  
  
Stiles grimaced. "Well you just gave away the ending. No point t-telling it now. Allison, I'm sure you h...hear a lot of stories from your dad."  
  
"I thought you'd love telling ghost stories," Allison laughed, watching Stiles intently. "That seems right up your alley."  
  
At that, without warning, Desiree slipped her middle finger knuckle-deep into Stiles and held her back tight so she wouldn't flail her way out of the chair.  
  
It took her a second to respond, glaring at the fire until she was composed. "I don't tell very good ghost stories. Dee passed on her turn and you didn't bug her about that!"  
  
That earned her a second finger probing deep, which resulted in a squirm so violent Desiree was almost afraid the blanket privacy had been compromised. "I'm not much of a storyteller," she growled in response.  
  
Scott was looking over at them, and Stiles was really starting to worry that he knew what was going on. Seriously, how did he not already? He must be the worst werewolf in ever to not be able to hear the soft squelch Desiree’s fingers were making. Or maybe it just seemed deafening to her because - seriously - Desiree was _finger-fucking her in front of their friends_. This was twelve different kinds of messed up. But Desiree’s thumb was doing that thing with the slow circles over her pubic bone and Stiles could feel the rise of an orgasm, just the start, and she knew she was pushing herself up to meet Dee’s hands when she should have been pushing them away, but...!  
  
Suddenly, Scott interrupted whatever Alison was saying, which was really strange, because normally he listened to her every word like they came from the mouth of God. “Hey, we should, ah, like go to bed. I’m tired. Come on, let’s go.” Without giving her a chance to think about it, Scott stood up and grabbed her by the hand. Allison’s brow furrowed cutely, and she stayed planted there on the log.  
  
“But it’s only...” She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “It’s only, like, nine-forty, Scott.”  
  
“Y... yeah, but, I’m like...” He scratched the back of his neck and pulled a face, blatantly not looking at Stiles and Desiree. “Really tired.”  
  
Stiles almost squeaked when Desiree twisted her fingers, and did not look Scott in the eye. “H-he looks tired, I can tell. We’re gonna stay by the fire a bit, I’m kinda cold.”  
  
“Well, I can stay,” Allison said, giving Scott a look. “You can go to bed if you want, but I’m not tired.”  
  
“We are,” Desiree suddenly said, her voice husky and low by Stiles’ ear, and, well. That was that. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and buried her face under Desiree’s jaw to hide it from the other two; if there was something Scott never needed to see, it was his BFF’s orgasm face. It sounded like Scott had seen enough, though, if the scandalized sounds he was making were any indication.  
  
And then Desiree took her fingers out, and they left the skirt altogether. She wrapped her arms around Stiles’ chest and actually pulled her up, with the blanket and everything. “We’ll be in our tent,” she grunted, and turned around, dragging Stiles with her.  
  
Behind them, Scott seemed to be whining, and Alison was asking what was wrong, but Stiles couldn’t think about that as she was basically dropped onto a sleeping bag as Desiree zipped up the tent flap. Stiles yanked her panties completely off, balling them up and tossing them right at Desiree’s face. They dropped into her hand - oh look, claws, how charming - and Desiree shot her what was probably supposed to be an unimpressed look, but it kinda fell short when Desiree had her sex face on. Stiles muttered as much, and Desiree rolled her eyes, putting Stiles’ underwear to the side and crawling up the sleeping bag toward her like the predator she was.  
  
Animal Planet-type predator, not... sex predator, ew.  
  
Stiles was pretty much forced onto her back as Dee crawled up her body, short hair falling in front of her eyes as she did so, making them glint dangerously. “Now, are you going to be quiet like a good girl, or do you want the whole forest to hear us?” she whispered when she got up to Stiles’ ear. Stiles could feel her whole midsection clench in anticipation traitorously while her brain tried so hard to feel indignity.  
  
“You’re a dick, you know that,” she hissed, bending a knee to thump Desiree’s side. The wolf smiled with a mouth full of teeth.  
  
“I’d say that’s why you like me, but I think we both know that’s not true.”  
  
“Oh, funny,” Stiles snarked in whispered tones, dragging her hands through Dee’s hair as her other knee lifted to bracket Desiree between them. “You could have maybe brought that razor wit of yours out by the fire five minutes ago instead of giving Scott nightmares for life.”  
  
She could actually feel the grin that Desiree pressed to her neck. “I don’t give a fuck what he dreams about. Especially not when I’m about to take off your bra and suck your tits.”  
  
Stiles shuddered, and even though she gave a huff, she still lifted up so her bra could be undone. “Dammit, we’re in a tent! The walls are hardly water proof, let alone sound proof!”  
  
“Good,” Desiree grunted, reaching back to unclip Stiles’ bra. Stiles had to bite her lip to keep from mentioning how the whole big bad wolf routine was somewhat ruined when Desiree cradled the back of her neck like that to steady her as they got Stiles out of her bra. She knew Dee would only crank up the asshole attitude if she was caught out, and really, Stiles probably liked her little moments of unintentional sweetness more than she should. “He stakes his claim the way he likes, so I’ll make mine on my terms.”  
  
“Wha - is this some kind of alpha pissing contest?” Stiles let herself be laid back as Desiree shoved her oversized hoodie up over her breasts. “You know he’s not actually an alpha, right? And that no contest is necessary?”  
  
All she got in response was a growl and a pinch to her nipple, which made her jump a little. Desiree was massaging them both, and then bent down to suck on the one she had pinched. Stiles knew from experience that her nipple would probably be sensitive to the point of painful the next morning, but she didn’t really mind at the moment.  
  
The woods were cold when the sun went down, and she knew the shivers and goosebumps that ran up her arms and bared torso weren’t just Desiree’s doing. Stiles gripped Desiree’s shoulder, overlapping their arms to glean some of the werewolf’s heat. “Can we... under the sleeping bag or something?”  
  
Obviously, her sense of protectiveness kicked in as Desiree went about unzipping sleeping bags until they had a makeshift bed for themselves, and they were both covered. Once Stiles’ shivers stopped, Desiree ran warm hands up her bare sides, running over the skirt but keeping it in place on her hips.  
  
“This isn’t your size,” she murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Stiles’ other breast, sucking the nipple into her mouth when Stiles squeaked.  
  
“N-no,” Stiles agreed, and obviously she was trying to figure out what to say next. Desiree took a great deal of pride in rendering her speechless. “Not my skirt.”  
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a skirt before,” Desiree mused. She rubbed slowly up and down the outside of Stiles’ thigh to her hip under the skirt, warming her up. “It’s nice. Convenient.”  
  
“F-fuck, never wearing one again if this is how you act,” she stuttered, trying to keep her composure. Although, maybe she _would_ wear one again, just not in public, kept safe for any time that she wanted to be ravaged by Desiree.  
  
“Wanted you all day,” Desiree said, as if Stiles hadn’t basically threatened the discontinuation of her new toy. “All fucking day with your goddamn mouth, and then I come back from a hunt with my pulse racing, ready to provide, and you’re just there waiting with your ass and your legs on display like I’ve never seen them when you weren’t completely naked, and I just -”  
  
Stiles pushed up, capturing Desiree’s mouth with hers. Then she pulled back, a smile on her lips. “It’s cool, I understand. Kinda like what I feel when you wear your leather pants.”  
  
Desiree shoved her down into the softness of the pillow (that she’d _insisted_ on bringing, the little princess) and kissed her hungrily, curving her hands around from low on Stiles’ hips to the underside of her thighs, squeezing the plush flesh and massaging the toned muscles underneath. One day, she was going to stop marvelling at the fact that Stiles’ body was completely at war with how much she ran around with a species that outpaced her by a thousand percent to how much she loved to stuff herself full of curly fries and cinnamon rolls. One day. “You could wear my leather pants,” she suggested, heat pooling in her gut at the thought.  
  
Stiles gave a laugh at that, which was cut off rather quickly when a questing hand made it up the skirt. “They’re skin tight on you, no way they would fit me.” She spread her legs, making it easier for Desiree’s hand to find what it was looking for. Her lips quirked up in a grin and she teasingly traced over the soft hair at the V of Stiles’ thighs. She knew just how indignant Stiles would be if she denied her gratification now that she was asking for it, so of course she bypassed the slick, wet heat and bent down to kiss her stomach.  
  
“I’ll get you a pair.”  
  
“Are we seriously talking about clothes right now?” Stiles whispered, her head falling against the pillow.  
  
Desiree gave a wolfish grin, and then went under the sleeping bag, disappearing from sight to become a large lump in the blanket. She could hear Stiles giggle somewhat breathlessly as Desiree unzipped the skirt and paused with her fingers around the waistband. For a short moment, she contemplated leaving it on, because apparently she was into that now, but when the subtle scent that she only barely recognized as Lydia Martin’s, and overwhelmingly, Allison’s car hit her nose, she sat up to pull it down from Stiles’ waist.  
  
Now, completely bare under the blanket, Stiles lifted her knees. Two strong hands were in her thighs, moving them to where she wanted them, making her even more spread open. The tease breathed over her, breath warm and tantalizing, and Stiles nearly cried when Desiree started to nose low at her abdomen instead of eating her alive. She knew that her scent normally drove Desiree crazy, and she only benefitted from that. Normally. It seemed Desiree had formed some kind of... immunity. Out of spite, she snarked, “If I dutch oven’d you right now, you’d probably pass out, huh?”  
  
There was a growl, and a bite to her thigh, with human teeth. Desiree finally got a finger to her clit, rubbing it roughly. A tongue laved over the bite mark and her belly button, and really everywhere, marking her skin. Stiles’ hips spasmed and arched and she knew she should probably have stopped the low keen that made its way out of her mouth, cut it short in the middle and grit her teeth. She could hear Desiree growl like a grumpy puppy, muffled by the sleeping bag, and it made her laugh, a little breathless. “If you want me to start screaming in the middle of the woods thanks to your sexual prowess, you’ve gotta do it when our friends aren’t in the fucking tent six feet away, Dee.”  
  
“You’re the one who wanted to go camping,” she said, sounding grumpy about it, which didn’t make sense considering how close she was to Stiles’ sensitive parts. Desiree gave a long lick up the whole of her sex, making Stiles’ breath stutter when the flat of her tongue slid roughly over her clit. It took Stiles a minute to formulate a response, and she almost gave up trying to just let herself enjoy it, but really, shutting up just because Desiree was eating her out would be like a forfeit, and Desiree just loved to hold those over her head.  
  
“Thought you’d like it,” she panted, spreading her legs so wide she had to ease up a bit just to avoid cramping up. “Y’know, creature of the night, getting back to your wolfy roots...”  
  
Desiree pulled away, taking the time to sink a finger into her cunt. “You thought that sleeping in a canvas bag, with two other people ten feet away, eating hot dogs would be my idea of getting back to nature?” She gave a snort, and once she was done talking, put her mouth back on Stiles.  
  
“Excuse you, dude, you went _hunting_ and caught _fish_. Probably with your bare hands. Oh. Hey. Bare hands. Bear hands. Catching fish. Get it?” Desiree pushed two more fingers in at once and Stiles grit her teeth at the last minute to let only the quietest of groans came out. “Shut up, you love my puns.”  
  
“I love it better when you’re begging for me to fuck you with my tongue.” Desiree heard Scott make a cut off choking sound and grinned wolfishly, pushing further in at the sudden, hungry clench around her fingers.  
  
There were more sounds from the other tent, and then Scott yelled at them. “Cut it out guys! Seriously!”  
  
Stiles looked mortified, throwing her hand over her face. “Shit, Dee maybe we should - _ahhhhfuck_!” Desiree sucked on her clit, flicking it with the tip of her tongue as she stuffed a fourth finger inside, and Stiles couldn’t help but shout, her head thrown back deep, deep into the pillow. “Dee!”  
  
“Don’t give a fuck about anyone else,” Desiree snarled, and Stiles wasn’t sure if it was a command or a confession. “I’m taking care of you, and I’m not stopping for anyone else’s delicate sensibilities. You’re mine. Shut up and let me fuck you.”  
  
Desiree would forever refute that the noise she made when Stiles kneed her in the shoulder, hard enough to make her topple over in an inelegant heap, was a yelp. She poked her head up out of the sleeping bag, scandalized with bright red eyes, as if to reclaim her dignity, but Stiles’ eyes were narrowed and her mouth was set in a firm line between her ruddy sex-hot cheeks. Dee’s instincts traitorously gave her the old beta-twinge feeling of a metaphorical tail being tucked between her legs. No dignity tonight, then. “What was that?” Stiles hissed.  
  
Desiree tried to be upset, but mostly she just felt mortified that Stiles had to push her away. "I want to pleasure you. Why won't you let me?"  
  
"Because my best friend is one tent over and has super hearing! Help me find my PJs," she said with a huff, her naked bottom hoisted up in the air as she crawled out of their nest over to her bag.  
  
Dee licked her lips, tasting Stiles on them and reaching out to touch her leg. She kneaded the hard muscle of her calf, and when Stiles found her pajamas in the bag, Desiree hauled her close again, ignoring Stiles' quiet squawk of protest as she was pulled over the slick sleeping bag fabric. She flopped down by Stiles' side to watch her get dressed, when they both froze at the sound coming from Scott's tent.  
  
Stiles cocked her head to the side for a moment and grimaced. "... No way."  
  
Desiree gave a grin, running her hand higher up her leg. "It seems that they want to play a game. Who can be loudest?" With that, she flipped Stiles down onto the sleeping bags, throwing the PJs to the side.  
  
"No, wait, hold up, this is so unreal," Stiles ground out, gripping Desiree's forearms and looking over helplessly in the direction of Scott's tent. "That asshole! We were gonna stop!"  
  
"Sorry! It's Allison's idea!" came the yell from the other tent.  
  
Stiles hit her forehead with her hand, shaking her head. "What the hell is this, seriously."  
  
Desiree stared down at her for a moment before slowly leaning in to touch her nose to Stiles' neck. "It's whatever you want it to be," she finally mumbled, holding herself steadily over Stiles, to let her know that it could go either way, whenever she gave the word.  
  
"So I can engage in a weird sex-battle with the dude I've known since we were in diapers," she said slowly, and Desiree had to laugh, quiet and amused, "or we could just cuddle and have to listen to them fuck like bunnies?"  
  
“Those seem to be the options,” Desiree said, her hiding place under Stiles' jaw keeping her expression safe from view.  
  
Stiles groaned and closed her eyes shut. “I would so regret that later in life. Our kids are gonna ask me why I can never look Uncle Scott in the eyes and I won’t be able to tell them that it was because we went camping!”  
  
Desiree took that cue to mouth silently at the side of Stiles’ neck as she ranted on in hushed tones. She could smell Stiles’ interest spike again, maybe not as sharply as it did before Scott and Allison started going at it in their tent, but it was definitely there. “So what do you want me to do? I can still... stop if you want. Or I could do something else.”  
  
“I’m not really into the sex contest thing, believe it or not,” Stiles huffed, curling her fingers in Derek’s hair. “What’s the point when we know for a fact our sex is better?”  
  
She grinned at that, and groped Stiles’ chest. Stiles' body went slack and she got that look on her face that said something was about to happen - it didn't help that she gave a wink to Desiree. Then she parted her lips and let out a long moan. “Ohhh Dee, fuck, Scott and Allison are _right there_ , you can’t do that!” she stage whispered, so no one would even need wolf hearing to catch on. Dee stared at her, wide-eyed and slackjawed for a second. They weren’t... Stiles was _vocal_ , certainly, but never so articulate, and never for a boob grab... “Ahh, Dee! Right there!”  
  
Oh. _Oh._  
  
Desiree grinned wickedly and let out a long, low groan, her heartbeat spiking befittingly when Stiles bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling too widely. “Stiles,” she hummed, drawing the S out in a comically serpentine fashion. Stiles released a high-pitched mewl and a _Yes!_ that was so cheesy and overplayed that Desiree knew Scott couldn’t have mistaken it for real sex noises. Scott made a loud, clear gagging noise that suggested perhaps she had overestimate him, and Stiles was shaking so hard from restrained laughter that Dee thought she might burst.  
  
Next, Stiles made a few sloppy, wet noises with her tongue, and a muffled moan, and there was the sound of sleeping bags being moved in the other tent. “You guys are gross! We’re going to the car!” Scott said, followed by some giggling by Allison. Their tent unzipped, and they went to the car. They could hear a door slam, and then silence. Silence except for the slowly rising noises of forest life; leaves rustling in the light breeze, the flutter of birdwings overhead. A quarter of a mile away, if Desiree listened hard enough, she could hear a family of deer ambling down to the stream for a drink. And then there was Stiles right beneath her, red from laughter and grinning mischievously up at Desiree like she was the most amazing partner in crime she could ever ask for. And, considering Scott used to do things like join her for traipses through the woods in search of half a body, that was saying something.  
  
“They won’t be able to hear us anymore,” Desiree said, eyes heavy with lust. She watched Stiles’ throat when she swallowed, and bent down to lick at her collar bone.  
  
“You’re such a perv. You’re lucky that I like it.”  
  
“I’m lucky for a lot of things,” Desiree agreed, shivering as Stiles slid her nails up and down the back of Desiree’s neck as the wolf shaped bruise after bruise up along her throat.

“I was so close to coming. So close. But maybe it’s good I didn’t because you know I’m prone to passing out after round two, and that’d make me a shitty girlfriend because you haven’t even had round one yet....”  
  
“I like pleasuring you,” Desiree said, and gave a bite to her collar bone. Then she moved down, throwing the blanket over the both of them, and once again pushed Stiles’ legs up. Stiles made a discontented noise and pushed the covers back down around Desiree’s shoulders. On one hand, she could plainly see Stiles’ long, pale body stretched out before her in the moonlight muffled by the tent. On the other, Stiles looked like she wanted Derek’s attention on her words, not her body. Nothing was ever easy with her.  
  
“I’m trying really hard to focus on something here and it’s incredibly hard to do that when what I really want to do is think about the contrast in why you call it ‘fucking’ when you get all territorial, but you prefer to call it ‘pleasuring’ when we’re alone in the quiet. But I am! I’m totally focusing. On you. C’mon, you know there’s no way I’m really gonna be satisfied if I don’t make you come at least once.”  
  
Desiree sighed and then sat up, taking off her shirt, and then her black bra. “You are so difficult sometimes,” she huffed, but let Stiles tug her jeans down after undoing them.  
  
“Stop complaining, I know you like it.” Stiles had that smug expression on her face that had always begged Derek to kiss it right off, so she did, kicking out of her jeans and moving up until she straddled one of Stiles’ thighs, the other hiked up around Desiree’s hip. She congratulated herself for deciding on the satin underwear before she’d come, because the texture of it when Desiree ground her hips forward in a slow circle made Stiles’ eyelashes flutter so prettily. “No comeback?” Stiles finally managed to ask, sounding somewhat distant and distracted. Good.  
  
“Do I really need one?” Desiree asked, pushing forward again. She grabbed Stiles by her hips, keeping her exactly where she wanted her so that they could grind together easily. This time, when Stiles yelped and thrashed once, noisily against the sleeping bag, it wasn’t for show. Desiree rode her slowly at first, reaching down to rub quicker circles against Stiles’ slick, wet clit every time she stopped the swivel of her hips. The human’s eyes were closed, but her face was open, flushed, covered in freckles, and absolutely perfect. She was red all the way down to her chest, which heaved enticingly every other second.  
  
“Dee,” she pleaded, her eyes opening a crack. Her voice was rough and she had to lick her lips before she spoke. “Where’s the romance? C’mere, kiss me.”  
  
Desiree leaned down and pressed their lips together, one hand wrapping around the back of Stiles’ neck to lift her up. Desiree licked into her mouth, deeper as her lips opened wider. Desiree ground down with her hips as much as was possible in the position, still making them both see stars. Stiles whimpered mutedly against her mouth, and when Desiree moved abruptly, accidentally smushing their noses together, Stiles laughed. “Ease up a bit, tiger, c’mon, we’ve got all night,” she whispered, grabbing Desiree’s hip and rolling at a leisurely, achingly slow pace up against her. Desiree growled, easing Stiles’ legs down until the human lay flat. She took Stiles’ hand from her hip and shoved her panties to the side, pressing Stiles’ hand up to her sex.  
  
“Set the pace then,” she mumbled, cupping Stiles’ naked cunt in return and waiting expectantly.  
  
Stiles gave a wicked grin at her, and ran a finger up until she found that small bump of Desiree’s clit and gave it a rub. Desiree mirrored the action on her, copying everything Stiles did. “This is like, a million times better than masturbating,” Stiles giggled breathlessly, rubbing quicker circles when Desiree’s hips started to jerk involuntarily. “I always end up imagining your hands doing these things anyway, so this is _literally_ my go-to fantasy. I’m living the dream, baby.”  
  
“You’d better be close,” Desiree panted, eyes flashing red in the dark, “‘cause I’m -”  
  
“Yeah?” Stiles slowed her pace and bit the inside of her cheek when Desiree whimpered and moved against her hand. When she sped up again, she knew Dee was definitely close, because she only ever truly lost focus on getting Stiles off when she was right there on the edge. Stiles leaned up and sank her teeth into Desiree’s shoulder, slowing down until Dee was a panting mess, her hips following the motion for nearly ten seconds before she made a choked, ragged sound and spasmed against Stiles, her whole body surging forward to lay on top of the human as Stiles kept slowly tracing circles around Desiree’s clitorus until she was trembling from it.  
  
After a few seconds, Desiree pulled Stiles’ hand away so she wouldn’t keep touching her when she was so sensitive. Then, once more determined, she went down and pushed two fingers into Stiles’ wet cunt, curling them up, and licked over her clit, wanting to get her off quickly. Stiles spread her thighs to keep from squeezing them around Desiree’s head and shoved her wrist bone between her teeth so the pathetically loud gasping and was-that-wailing-oh-my-god wouldn’t be broadcasted through the woods as she felt her orgasm rise and rise and -  
  
Dee collapsed next to her two minutes later, once Stiles’ thighs and overly-sensitive sex were licked clean to Desiree’s standards. Stiles’ eyes were already beginning to close and she pulled Desiree towards her. She pressed her face into the short dark hair, pushing the messy chestnut strands of her own mane out of hte way. “So, I’m thinking I may buy a skirt.”  
  
There was a beat before Desiree made a little noise of agreement, wriggling around somewhat awkwardly as she attempted to shimmy out of her underwear without dislodging Stiles’ face from her hair. Stiles kissed her temple for the valiant attempt.  
  
“And leather pants?”  
  
“As long as we never bring them when we go camping with friends.” Stiles paused for a moment, the soft stroke of her fingers down Desiree’s side easing the wolf into a comfortable post-orgasmic endorphin coma. “We might make an exception for camping alone, however.”  
  
“You can shut up now,” Dee grumbled tiredly. Then, quietly, just to shut her indignant ramblings up, “You had me at the word _skirt_.”

**Author's Note:**

> In the spirit of Femslash February. :)
> 
> Title is from a poem by Emily Dickinson:
> 
>  
> 
> Frequently the woods are pink,   
> Frequently are brown;  
> Frequently the hills undress  
> Behind my native town. 
> 
>  
> 
> Oft a head is crested   
> I was wont to see,  
> And as oft a cranny  
> Where it used to be. 
> 
>  
> 
> And the earth, they tell me,   
> On its axis turned,—  
> Wonderful rotation  
> By but twelve performed!
> 
> If you are so inclined, feel free to follow [Byacolate's Tumblr](http://byacolate.tumblr.com/) and [Tyger's Twitter](https://twitter.com/Whitetyger123).


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